No one can tell the difference between a clone and a human. That's because there isn't any difference. The idea of clones being inferior is a filthy lie.
People’s souls are like gardens. You can’t turn your back on someone because his garden’s full of weeds. You have to give him water and lots of sunshine.
I always say the truth is best even when we find it unpleasant. Any rat in a sewer can lie. It's how rats are. It's what makes them rats. But a human doesn't run and hide in dark places, because he's something more. Lying is the most personal act of cowardice there is.
Slow people are just paying close attention.
After all, what is suffering but an awareness of suffering?
Patience and love can do anything.
Tam Lin says rabbits give up when they're caught by coyotes [...]. He says they consent to die because their animals and can't understand hope. But humans are different. They fight against death no matter how bad things seem, and sometimes, even when everything's against them, they win.
Power's a strange thing, lad. It's a drug people like me crave it.
You don’t have a soul, so you can’t be baptized. All animals are like that. I think it’s unfair and sometimes I don’t believe it. After all, what would heaven be without birds or dogs or horses? And what about trees and flowers? They don’t have souls either. Does that mean heaven looks like a cement parking lot? I suppose this is what the nuns call a theological problem.
Always choose your bodyguard from another country, they find it harder to make alliance and betray you.
A little extra forgiveness never hurts," said Matt, quoting one of Celia's favorite sayings.
He has his good side and his bad side. Very dark indeed is his majesty when he wants to be. When he was young, he made a choice, like a tree does when it decides to grow one way or the other. He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted.
Does is make the dragon happy?" Matt asked. "Does is make the dragon happy?" echoed Tam Lin. "Why, I never thought of that. I suppose it does. What other pleasure can a creature have whose life consists of making everyone else miserable?
Guardian angels guide the steps of idiots.
But I also know that to ignore joy while it lasts, in favor of lamenting one's fate, is a great crime.
Look around you...Feel the wind, smell the air. Listen to the birds and watch the sky. Tell me what's happening in the wide world.
That was the best kind of story: when the teller was as much under its spell as the listener.
The other girls in the village never felt restless. Nhamo was like a pot of boiling water. 'I want...I want...,' she whispered to herself, but she didn't know what she wanted and she had no idea how to find it.
If I had a soul, I’d probably wind up in hell anyway.
The high point of your life was when you knocked me down
I am she who lifts the mountains When she goes to hunt, Who wears mamba for a headband And a lion for a belt. Beware! I swallow elephants whole And pick my teeth with rhinoceros horns, I drink up rivers to get at the hippos. Let them hear my words! Nhamo is coming And her hunger is great. I am she who tosses trees Instead of spears. The ostrich is my pillow And the elephant is my footstool! I am Nhamo Who makes the river my highway And sends crocodiles scurrying into the reeds!
Quests always have their ups and downs,' rumbled the giant. 'The point is never to give up, even if you're falling off a cliff. You never know what might happen on the way to the bottom.
Heroes, well, they don't live so long. But they're muy suave, and we all admire them.
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